


A Tooth For A Tooth

by RailMeBarrow



Series: An Eye For An Eye [2]
Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Angst, Depression, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Predicament Bondage, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-26 15:21:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30107994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RailMeBarrow/pseuds/RailMeBarrow
Summary: Sequel to An Eye For An EyeThomas tries to come to terms with and hide what happened to him.
Relationships: Thomas Barrow & Jimmy Kent, Thomas Barrow/Jimmy Kent
Series: An Eye For An Eye [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2214612
Comments: 8
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

When Thomas woke up the next morning, he felt nothing. His body ached with every movement and he felt like death but emotionally, there was nothing. He felt as if he should be angry or upset but he was just blank. If anything, he was scared. Scared of what Jimmy would do now. Was this a one time thing? Or did the footman expect it to become a regular occurrence?

He rose slowly, careful not to put pressure on any part of his body lest he cry out in pain. He wandered down the corridor to the bathroom. He wasn't sure what the time was, or what had even woke him up. The sun was up and he could hear footsteps in the other men's bedrooms so he wasn't up too early. He sped up as he walked past Jimmy’s room not wanting to be caught by the younger man.

At first, Thomas was tempted to believe it was all a strange and twisted nightmare but the incessant ache of his whole body proved otherwise. He still couldn't get his head round the whole night, couldn't remember a majority of it. He could remember Jimmy’s shadowy figure standing in his room and Jimmy thrusting harshly into his ill prepared body. He could remember Jimmy telling him that he wanted it, he could remember that this was not true. 

Thomas entered the bathroom quickly, not bothering to shut the door as he only planned to brush his teeth and leave. He looked into the mirror, both disgusted and entranced by his own appearance. His hair was sticking in all directions, pulled and tugged painfully by Jimmy. His lips were swollen and crusted with dried blood. His eyes were red-rimmed from hours of weeping as he tried desperately to forget what the man he loved had just done to him. Under his bloodshot eyes were deep, dark bags, showing the few hours of sleep he had gotten.

Thomas’s stomach turned as he suddenly noticed the angry welt that started at his neck and disappeared under his blue shirt. Waves of nausea overcame him as the reality of what happened hit him, the raw emotions overwhelming. Unable to hold it in anymore, Thomas dropped to his knees by the toilet, bile rising in his throat. Tears streamed down his face as he retched, his back shaking violently as he threw up into the porcelain.

“Mr Barrow… Are you alright?” Asked Alfred, the lanky ginger boy poking his head round the corner. Thomas attempted to respond, to tell Alfred to leave him alone, but he hardly got a second’s rest from the onslaught of vomit. 

“MR CARSON!” Yelled the boy, his face contorting in worry as Thomas continued his retching. Thomas silently prayed that his shouting didn't attract a certain footman. The underbutler sobbed at the mere thought of Jimmy finding him like this. How on earth could he continue to work with that man? Thomas felt as if his whole world was caving in on itself, here in the small bathroom.

“What is it Alfred, I’ve got to serve the family breakfast soon, can’t it wait?” Said Carson gruffly from the other end of the corridor, pulling on his necktie. 

“No, Mr Carson, it’s Mr Barrow, I don't think he’s well…” Responded Alfred, his eyes still fixed on Thomas’s hunched form. Thomas heard the heavy footsteps of the butler approach the bathroom before the man spoke. 

“Ah, yes, I see what you mean Alfred. Mr Barrow, you are excused for today. I expect you to be fit to work by tomorrow, mind you.” Said Carson, loud and blunt. Thomas abruptly wiped his wet face before thanking Carson in a quiet and broken voice, quickly returning to retching over the toilet.

The two men went downstairs not long after, leaving Thomas knelt by the toilet, his convulsions slowly coming to a halt as he shivered. He got up to lock the door, suddenly needing a bath. He felt dirty all over, tainted and impure. He knew, logically, that it was just a bit of sweat and bodily fluids that covered him, but he felt as if he was defiled, inside and out.

As he ran the bath, he began taking off his clothes and assessing the damages. He tried to look at himself with a detached medical eye, almost pretending it was not his own body that stood in the mirror, bruised and bloodied. The red scratches snaked around most of his body, the skin peeling and cracked. Around his hips, shoulders and wrists were small crescent shaped cuts from where Jimmy had dug his nails in, holding Thomas down.

Thomas turned away from the mirror to climb into the now full bath, vigorously rubbing himself down with a bar of soap. It burned his welts and brought tears to his eyes but Thomas could think of no other way to get rid of the sense of dirtiness that overwhelmed him. He scrubbed until he was red raw, his scratches bleeding anew into the water. 

He quickly checked for internal tearing before getting out of the bath. It all seemed fine but Thomas knew he should probably go to a doctor just to make sure as Jimmy was decidedly not gentle, but he knew it would make more trouble than it was worth if he did. He would probably get thrown into jail or sent off to a mad house if he approached the doctor about something like this. So Thomas settled with his own opinion that it was all fine, no serious damage was done, it would just be painfully tender for a while.

Thomas wrapped himself in the terry towelling bath gown that hung on the door, careful to cover up any of the scratches in case he ran into anyone. He scampered down the corridor to his room quickly, even though he was sure everyone else would already be downstairs and working. He changed into a fresh pair of pyjamas, having left his old pair in the bathroom. Though he doubted he’d ever wear them again.

He curled up in his bed, shutting the curtains and locking his door for good measure. He knew he wouldn't sleep but he couldn't think of anything else to do right now. For hours, he just lay curled in a fetal position, his mind replaying the events over and over and over again. The bits that Thomas couldn't remember he filled in with what might have happened, the bits he did remember, he watched happen a hundred times in graphic detail. A few times he tried to read his book, tried to write his letters, tried anything to keep his mind of the events of the previous night but each time his thoughts drifted back to Jimmy, Jimmy holding him down, Jimmy threatening to scream, Jimmy scratching down his back as he growled. 

But he didn't cry. He didn't shout and scream like he so desperately wanted to. He just lay there, staring at the wall as his thoughts raced and his body trembled minutely. He was so, so scared. Scared Jimmy would come back, scared Jimmy would tell Carson or the police, scared Jimmy would ruin his life, just like he promised. 

There was a knock at the door. 

Barrow’s head whipped around to stare at it, as if the blank wood would show him who was behind. Please don't be Jimmy, please don't be Jimmy, please don't be Jimmy.

The mystery caller knocked again.

“Who is it?” Called out Thomas, embarrassed by how small and weak his voice sounded as he got out of bed and moved to the door, key in hand. 

“It's Anna.” Answered the knocker. Thomas unlocked the door, opening it as the woman walked in, tray in hand. “I’ve bought you your lunch, Mr Carson said you were ill.”

“I’m not hungry.” Muttered Thomas as Anna set down the tray on his bedside table. 

“You should be in bed.” Said Anna, ignoring him. “You look terrible.” 

“Thanks a lot.” Said Thomas sarcastically, carefully climbing into his bed. 

“I’ll send someone up in an hour or so to collect your plate when you're done, okay?” Asked Anna as she stood in the doorway, anxious to leave the sickly man.

“I’m not hungry.” Answered Thomas. He wasn't lying. Eating was the last thing on his mind at the moment, he just wanted to curl up and disappear. 

“Well… Just eat whatever you can, okay?” Said Anna before quickly exiting the room. Thomas locked the door behind her before curling back up on his bed, decidedly ignoring the plate. He pulled his blanket tightly around himself, as if it would shield him from Jimmy if the man ever came in again.

A few hours later, as promised, a small housemaid knocked on the door, asking for his tray. He handed it back quickly, trying not to note the strange look on her face when he gave her his whole lunch back. He climbed back to bed, hoping to get a couple of hours sleep before dinner. 

Alas, it was not to be. Every time he got near to a slumber his mind awoke him with the memories of the night before, replaying the violent attack of his colleague over and over. As much as his eyes filled with tears, Thomas could not bring himself to cry, instead just staring at the wall. 

~~~

When Thomas woke, the door was amber with the light of the setting sun. To be perfectly honest he wasn't sure when he had fallen asleep or why he had woken up. Despite sleeping for at least a few hours, he didn't feel particularly well rested. Still, it was nice to have an escape from the thoughts, even if it was just for a few hours. He began to sit up in his bed, rubbing at his eyes gently. 

Someone to the right of him coughed.

Thomas froze in his bed, not daring to turn around and face who he knew was there. He listened to their breathing for a moment before sitting back in his bed, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the foot of his bed.

“Good Evening, sleepy head.” Said Jimmy in a sickly sing-song voice. “I've bought you your dinner.” 

“Thank you.” Whispered Thomas, trying to stop his hands from shaking as Jimmy passed him a bowl of stew. 

“Mr Carson told me you were feeling a little poorly so I thought I’d just pop in and see how you were doing.” Said Jimmy, a sinister smile spreading across his face. 

“Did he?” Asked Thomas, trying to act disinterested as he internally screamed. 

“Aw Thomas… Why so grumpy?” Responded Jimmy, pouting at the older man. “You know I’ve forgiven you for everything you've done.”

“Everything _ I’ve  _ done?!” Thomas near shouted, unable to contain himself. What on earth was Jimmy talking about, he was the one that had forced himself upon Thomas the night before.

“Don't you remember Thomas? You assaulted me last night. You took advantage of me when I was drunk and dragged me into your room, forced me to do depraved acts. At least, that's the official story.” Jimmy winked at him as he got up and headed to the door. “Eat up, before it gets cold.” 

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Thomas alone and shaking in his room. What could he do? 


	2. Chapter 2

That night, Thomas locked his door, jamming a chair under the handle for good measure. He wasn't sure if Jimmy would try to come back, but it was better safe than sorry. Outside his room he could hear the general hustle and bustle of abbey life, each footstep walking past his door causing him to freeze and hold his breath. How on earth was he going to manage working alongside Jimmy?

Eventually, the noises outside stopped, the rest of the servants heading to bed. Thomas tried to sleep a few times but was always harshly awoken by the fear that Jimmy was somehow in his room. His body still ached from the previous night and he couldn't bear to take off his clothes and see all the scratches that lay beneath. The underbutler sat on his bed, half-heartedly reading his book as the moon shone in through a gap in the curtains, his eyes slowly drooping shut as the words lulled him to sleep.

Thomas was startled awake by a rattling. He looked at the clock. Two o’clock in the morning. There was another rattle. It was the door handle. It moved up and down, shaking the chair propped under it. Thomas knew exactly who it was. He pulled his covers up tight to his chin as the doorknob continued to rattle, his pulse roaring in his ears.

And then as suddenly as it had started, it stopped. Thomas could hear the soft footsteps of someone walking away, having given up. He breathed out a shuddering sigh of relief that he was safe. For now. 

The underbutler didn't sleep much that night, turning on his bedside lamp and reading, his eyes still flashing to the door every so often. As the sun rose, Thomas gave up on the idea of sleeping and instead started getting ready for the day ahead. Maybe if he was well dressed enough, his hair combed back flawlessly enough, then Jimmy would leave him alone. 

He decided not to leave his room until everyone else was awake and in the corridors, lest any incidents with Jimmy occur. Thomas tried not to think about the fact that he would inevitably run into Jimmy, what with working alongside him and all. Maybe if he stayed around other people, the footman would give up. 

After a few hours of sitting on his bed, staring at the wall, Thomas heard the knocking that meant it was time to get up. He checked himself in the mirror again, noting the deep bags under his eyes that ruined his whole ‘put together’ act. Hopefully the others wouldn't notice. He walked out of his door, his head held high as he headed to the toilet, checking the door was locked as soon as he got in.

After that, he headed downstairs. He hadn't seen Jimmy in the corridors yet which meant he was either in the servants hall or still in his room. Barrow entered the servants hall, almost shaking with anticipation of seeing Jimmy. Thankfully, the younger man was nowhere to be seen, only Baxter and Mrs Hughes already sitting at the table. Thomas muttered a quiet good morning to them before taking his usual seat at the table, pouring himself a cup of tea with shaking hands. 

One by one, the rest of the staff filed in, taking their places at the table and tucking into breakfast. Thomas had already had two slices of toast and some egg, ravenous from his lack of eating the day before. The underbutler was just about to start on his third slice of toast when Jimmy waltzed in. Suddenly his appetite was gone, his hands shaking anew. He tried to avoid the younger man's eyes by hiding his face behind a cup of tea, but he could still feel his gaze burning into his face.

“I'm glad to see you up and about again, Mr Barrow.” Said Baxter across the table, possibly noticing how uncomfortable Thomas suddenly looked. Before the underbutler could reply, Jimmy butted in from down the table.

“Yes, you looked so unwell, I was awfully worried.” He said, smiling sweetly up the table. “Thank the lord you’re better again.”

“Thank you, James.” Said Thomas flatly, avoiding the younger man’s eye. What was he doing? Why was he acting like this? Everyone knew Thomas and Jimmy had a rocky relationship, ever since the kiss incident. Wouldn't they get suspicious if he was suddenly Thomas’s best pal? What was he trying to achieve? 

Thomas spent most of the day avoiding Jimmy and avoiding being alone. He mostly stuck with Baxter or hung around in the kitchen, looking awfully awkward but feeling a great deal safer than if he was sat on his own. He knew it was stupid, being terrified of a man for giving you what you asked for, but Thomas couldn't help but fear Jimmy would do it again, would hurt him again. 

During the family dinner, Thomas could feel Jimmy staring at him from across the room. He refused to look up and meet his eye, scared the footman would notice the fear that hid behind and pounce, knowing that Thomas was weak. Never before had Thomas felt like such an animal at a zoo, spectated and silently jeered at by Jimmy. It was hellish trying to keep his composure and continue serving as if nothing was up.

Thomas ate his own dinner slowly, picking at the vegetables as he listened in on the other’s conversations. Usually he would chime in with his own important opinions, but today he just wanted to be silent, just wanted to sink away into the shadows where no one could see him. After the plates were taken away, Jimmy got up to play the piano. Thomas used to love the gentle plinking of the keys, the graceful way that the footman’s fingers flew over the ivory, prying music from them as if by magic. Now it all sounded horrible and sadistic, as if Jimmy was trying to torture Thomas with the very thing he had loved. 

“Are you alright, Mr Barrow?” Asked Mrs Hughes, peering at the underbutler. “You look a little peaky.” 

Thomas was about to brush her off when a hand landed on his shoulder, nails digging into the jacket, pressing into the skin underneath. Barrow tensed and realised he hadn't even noticed that the music had stopped. 

“He's probably just tired.” Said Jimmy as he began to stoke Thomas’s neck with one careful finger, running it over the scratches that lay there. “Maybe you should have an early bed, eh?” 

“Hmm...” Said Thomas, his eyes fixed on the table as Jimmy ran his hand down the underbutler’s arm and walked away. Barrow let out a sigh of relief and relaxed as the man left the room before he noticed Mrs Hughes looking through narrowed eyes at him. He tried to pass it off as a yawn before getting up and heading to bed. 

After checking under his bed and behind in his cupboards for any stowaways, he jammed the chair under the locked door again, pleased by how well it had worked the previous night. Maybe tonight he would be able to sleep uninterrupted. 

Maybe tonight Jimmy would leave him alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for the comments on this series, they really make this all worth it. 
> 
> i hope you enjoyed this chapter <3


	3. Chapter 3

Thomas woke up to an incessant knocking at his door. At first, he froze, dragging his sheet below his chin like it would protect him as he shook. But then he noticed the light and the time. It was just the scullery maid coming to wake him up. He breathed out a huge sigh of relief and relished in the fact that Jimmy hadn’t come for him that night. Maybe it really was just a one time drunken affair. 

But that didn't explain Jimmy’s other behaviour. If Jimmy had not visited Thomas’s room when he was sick and said all those lies, Thomas might have believed Jimmy was just trying to be nice, maybe he felt guilty over what he did. But Jimmy had made it clear that he felt no guilt, no remorse. So what was he doing? 

Thomas got dressed and washed his face quickly, shaking hands gliding a razor over his scratched skin. He wondered if the scratches the footman had left on his body would scar, a permanent reminder of a night he’d rather forget. Thomas headed down the stairs, determined to stay strong and not let Jimmy know that he was petrified of him. 

“Good morning, Mr Barrow.” Said Carson as Thomas took his usual place at the table. The underbutler tried to sound big and strong when he replied but it came out as little more than a whisper. Thomas looked up each time a member of staff walked through the door, every time fearing it would be Jimmy. Eventually everyone but the footman was seated and Thomas wondered where he was. Maybe he had died in his sleep. Chance’d be a fine thing. 

Jimmy walked in the door standing for a moment before taking the only seat available. The seat next to Thomas. The rest of the room stared. Ever since the incident last year, Jimmy had flat out refused to sit next to Thomas, meaning the underbutler had to get up and eat his dinner in the kitchen more than once. But here he was, taking a seat next to Thomas, not a word of complaint.

Eventually the staff got over the shock and continued their conversations. Thomas nibbled on his sliced apple, trying not to shake as he watched Jimmy out of the corner of his eye. The footman seemed to be acting normally, tucking into a bowl of porridge as if nothing was wrong, as if he hadn't raped Thomas a couple of nights ago. The younger man maintained conversations around the table like it was nothing, more charismatic than usual. Meanwhile, Thomas couldn't even mutter a ‘thank you’ with a stuttering and shaking.

A hand landed on his thigh and squeezed. He froze. 

“Mr Barrow?” Came Jimmy’s too happy voice. “Mr Carson was talking to you.” 

Was he? Thomas hadn’t heard a thing. He turned his head to the butler, his eyes still wide in shock and fear. Carson looked at him curiously before speaking.

“As I was saying, Mr Barrow…” He started, still trying to understand the uncomfortable look on the underbutler’s face. “You will be overseeing the wine delivery. When is it arriving again?” 

“Erm- I think…” Thomas’s brain was a jumble of thoughts, none of them anything to do with wine. The hand on his leg moved up, closer to his crotch and squeezed. He swallowed and coughed a little. “I think it's um… eleven.” 

At this point the whole table was staring at him, wondering what was making him act so strange. The hand moved up onto his crotch, gently squeezing and stroking at the front of his trousers. He felt all the blood run from his face and bile rose in his throat. 

“Excuse me.” He said before quickly standing up. Jimmy removed his hand just in time, letting Thomas run away from the room. From down the corridor he heard Jimmy’s high and clear voice.

“Maybe he’s still sick from the other day?” He heard the rest of the table hum in agreement before he exited out the back door. In a way, Thomas was sick from the other day. But not the way they all thought.

The underbutler leaned against the courtyard wall, trying to calm his breathing lest he break down. He wasn't even safe in the servants hall, surrounded by all those people. Was there nowhere he was safe? Barrow extracted his cigarettes from his pocket and lit one in his mouth, taking a deep drag that instantly helped to calm him down. 

Would he ever be safe? Would Jimmy ever back off and leave him alone?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the short chapter - i woke up very motivated and just NEEDED to write and post it. 
> 
> hope you enjoyed nonetheless! 
> 
> <3


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